'Is this a side effect? An unlisted benefit? Or something else entirely?'
The system, as always, offered no explanation. It sat in the background of his consciousness like a closed door with light leaking underneath, present, undeniable, and utterly unwilling to answer questions it hadn't been asked in the right way.
Stan sighed, toweled the sweat from his face, and decided to stop theorizing and start lifting.
He threw himself into the rest of the session with a focus that surprised even him. There was something deeply satisfying about the work, the clean, honest mechanics of muscle against resistance, the rhythm of controlled breathing, the way the world narrowed down to nothing but the weight and the count.
No system notifications. No favorability counters. No consumption targets. Just iron and effort and the slow, burning pleasure of pushing past a limit.
By the time he finished, his shirt was soaked through and his arms felt like they'd been filled with warm concrete.
